


you're so special

by LadyPrince



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Creepy, Dark, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Medication, Obsession, Panic, Panic Attacks, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPrince/pseuds/LadyPrince
Summary: Rhys has just moved from working at Maliwan to working in Hyperion in his hopes to find a company with a better robotics unit. As it is, he gets more than he bargained for as a heavy discomfort starts to settle in.





	you're so special

**Author's Note:**

> Copy paste of original notes from tumblr: "So I started this at 16:18 today and finished it at 23:20, today. Have fun! I did. Kinda."  
> Originally written and posted on tumblr.
> 
> Please heed tags and read at your own discretion.
> 
>  **Original publish date:** 21st of March, 2016.

“You gonna be okay over at Hyperion, man?” Vaughn asks as he helps Rhys pack; there are a lot of damn clothes, and he holds back the sigh of irritation that desperately wants to escape him. Curse his friend and his insane love of fashion. “I mean—Maliwan’s… kinda homey! Even if weird. I mean, not that—not that it’s bad here. Just so damn colourful all the time-“

“Well,” Rhys says, letting the word hang in the air a bit as he attempts to desperately slam his suitcase shut. God damn it… why did Hyperion mean having to move halfway across the country, even? Damn it. “The pays better-“

“Yeah, no, I’ve looked into Hyperion’s pay. Hooooly crap.”

Rhys refrains from grinning. “See? Anyway. The pays _great_ there, and also it’s just—I don’t know. I’m hoping to make a name of myself there because Maliwan has _no_ interest in robotics.”

“Sorry about that, bro.” Vaughn says as he comes over to help Rhys slam his suitcase shut finally. It should hold, and Rhys is sure if he opens it again it’ll explode so… well. What can he do about that, really? “But hey man! Just remember to keep your skype open, and to check facebook, and-“

“I’ll be in touch, don’t woooorry! I’ll still text you, bud.” He playfully punches Vaughn’s shoulder, and grins at him when the other gives an over-exaggerated pained noise in response. “Just remember to keep me updated on how you and Sasha are doin’, okay? And I’ll tell you if I found someone too.”

Vaughn rolls his eyes at him, adjusts his glasses, but there’s a big grin on his face. “Hey, no problem. We’re all gonna miss you.” When Rhys turns to face him, Vaughn spreads his arms wide and he immediately swoops in to lift his best bro up and spin him around. “Whoa—whoa hey, Rhys _chill!”_

“How can I chill when I’m gonna be leavin’ my hubby behind?” Rhys sniffles, the urge to giggle clawing at his throat and he eventually puts Vaughn down while snickering. “No, seriously, I needed that before I headed off to my new flat. At least it’s cheap?”

“Probably shitty, but yeah, cheap.” Vaughn shrugs, and Rhys smacks him on his back. “But, c’mon, we’re done packing, and you have a flight in like… ten hours. Go to bed, okay, Rhys?”

He grins at him widely and bends down to kiss Vaughn’s forehead, to which the other flicks his nose and Rhys whines. Laughing, Vaughn’s waving at him as he heads back to his own room, and Rhys flops down onto his bed and takes his room in for one last time before he has to leave the next day.

 _‘Well,’_ he thinks to himself as he gets up, turns the light off, and heads back down to lie down, _‘let’s hope Hyperion isn’t that bad.’_

* * *

The one thing he is grateful for is that Hyperion actually paid for his flight here. It’s not like he couldn’t have paid for it himself [though it is still kinda expensive] but he’s still happy to be able to keep the spare cash. He falls asleep through the flight, so he doesn’t have to suffer from boredom or from the nausea that he gets from flights, and he wakes up with a jolt when he arrives.

Now all he needs to do is take a taxi to his new home at Helios, the largest building in the entire city [in Rhys’s opinion, anyway], and go up to his flat to make sure everything is fine. He, thankfully, didn’t pack too much that requires a lot of help, so he’s able to get there with ease and without anything happening to his luggage.

It’s… tall. There’s a giant H on the building, and Rhys doesn’t know if it stands for Helios or Hyperion, but he supposes both works. He’s staring up at Helios when he gets out of the taxi after paying the fee, and he’s just staring at the multiple floors that seem to glare down at him. People both live and work here, and that’s… weirdly amazing to Rhys.

He thinks of it like being in university again, though he’s sure that Hyperion is way more stressful and awesome than going to university. Rhys just stands there, struck with awe for a little bit, before reality dawns on him again finally and he takes in a deep breath. He pushes the doors open, and shivers at the pleasant breeze of the AC on him.

It smells like strawberries and bananas inside as well. _‘That’s so weird,_ ’ Rhys thinks as he looks around the minimalistic and sleek interior of the ground floor. Catching the secretary there, Rhys stops to bring out his ID and passport, as per the email instructions, and the man behind the counter looks at him impassively as he makes his way over.

“Hi,” he begins awkwardly, “I’m um—a new employee. Rhys Kasrayi—here’s my passport and my ID.” The secretary takes them gingerly, looks over the details and then scans them in to compare them with what they have, and then gives them back.

He’s given a key card and Rhys looks at it. It’s black and red, just like the rest of the company, and Rhys pockets it after a while. “You’ll begin working in two days; you check your email, don’t you?”

“Yeah- yes. Yes I do check it.”

“We’ll email you all your details, and then give you a Hyperion specific email. If we have anything else to tell you, we’ll text you the details. Should there be any problems, just call us and we’ll check it.” The secretary sounds tired, and he dismisses Rhys with a wave of his hand. After that, nothing else is said so Rhys just nods and makes his way over to the elevators.

Work in two days, huh? Well, he supposes that Hyperion is a busy company. The earlier someone works, the better. He takes in a deep breath and exhales, knowing that he’ll be at the bottom of the pit before he can really get the job he wants.

But he’s young and this is all gonna be _fine._ It’ll be easier than Maliwan, he bets, and he already has plans to replace the Anshin prosthetic with a Hyperion cybernetic, even if the cybernetic is more experimental than anything else.

Still; he’s the first _actual_ volunteer, and he’s going to have a sick ass arm for it, so it’s not that bad he thinks. He passes by several other employees that are going throughout their daily routine and he’s lucky that the elevators are empty enough to allow him some space. Looking at the key card, he turns it around a bit and stares at the white numbers on the back before he presses the floor on the elevator.

Well, here’s to a good rest of his life [hopefully] working in Hyperion.

* * *

His flat isn’t bad. It’s empty and has barely any colour to it, but he supposes that he can fix that in time when he gets better income and has enough money to make this place fit his tastes. He already misses _the hell_ outta Vaughn, and Rhys doesn’t miss any time texting him his feelings.

Because seriously. His flat is so barren, despite having the basic necessities of sofa, bed, and so on, and Rhys feels awfully lonely already. Well; he did essentially just move, but eh. He’ll get everything situated soon enough. For now? He really needs a nap. He puts his mobile away after a while and makes his way over to his bedroom.

The bed at least does look nice. It’s also is as comfortable as it looks, so thank god for that because Rhys doesn’t think he can handle flopping down onto a hard bed after work every day. He opens his phone up, eyebrow arching as he sees that the company has already sent him a text, and Rhys almost wants to laugh.

It’s the password to the wifi, and Rhys supposes that that is an important thing to make sure all employees have, really. He still needs to check his email, and get all that stuff outta the way so he can be ready on…

Thursday. Yeah, Rhys totally did not forget what day it is. He switches his phone over to his prosthetic hand so that he can rub at his eyes and he reads over the instructions carefully.

Simple enough. Just be there at nine-thirty AM; the CEO is Harold Tassiter that much he knows already, he’s going to be starting low but given that Maliwan gave them glowing letters regarding Rhys they seem to be confident in him, and the Robotics division is small but full. If any positions open up, or if Rhys proves competent enough, he’ll be able to get the job he wants.

The next email is about the cybernetics and surgery is going to be in a month and two weeks, because they don’t want him to have surgery immediately and be unable to work for a good few days or weeks.

Yeah. He can handle all that.

* * *

The next day is a blur of unpacking and Rhys checking the flat to make sure nothing is wrong anywhere. There are no busted pipes, the water pressure and temperature is fine, the kitchen is working, and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, so Rhys is grateful for that. He ends up making lots of calls to the surgeons about the cybernetics, however, and it’s a long, long talk over the phone on how it’s going to go.

The hardest surgeries are going to be his eye and port surgery, because it’s still risky and they’ll be doing those ones way later on. The surgery in his email is for his arm, which they tell him is going to be way easier to replace than Rhys first assumed.

So, that’s good. They do require him to come in at some point so that they can do some physical tests and make sure he can handle it, mostly procedure or paranoia Rhys can’t tell, but whatever. If he gets kickass gear, then he’ll do whatever procedure that they need to do for him to get it.

He goes to sleep early that night, nervousness curling in his stomach and making him over-prepare for the next day. His clothes are laid out for him, and Rhys has his alarm set a good bit early.

Well.

Time to start the day.

* * *

The work he’s doing is mostly busywork and sometimes reminds Rhys of an internship more than anything else. Sure, he’s also getting a lot of damn paperwork that he has to sort through – a few are actual reports from robotics, even if they’re very minor and not that important, and Rhys can’t help his excitement – and projects are already being dumped on him.

They need to keep up with all the guns they’re manufacturing, and Rhys needs to watch video recordings and read over details about the guns to see if he can catch anything off about them that might not have occurred to the creators.

Then he needs to work on checking the code that he’s been sent and looking over the robotics report to make sure nothing in it is too _off_ or whatever.

It’s a lot of busywork, and he has to go and get coffee for his superiors too. Which, really, great. He has to go get coffee, help with simple staff, file the cabinets, and sometimes act as their secretary. It’s only been a few hours of work so far, but Rhys is _swamped._

Well; Hyperion _is_ like one of the top tier universities. Lots of work, but great recommendations—in his case, lots of work and great, great pay off.

When lunch arrives, Rhys is nearly yelling with joy. _Finally,_ some time off this crap.

The food in Hyperion doesn’t look _that bad_ from what Rhys has seen _—_ sure, it’s probably not as tasty as Maliwan’s but, to be fair, Maliwan is a bizarre company with bizarre priorities. Speaking of Maliwan; Vaughn’s still there, happily texting him about how much he hates pretty much all the accountants there, and Rhys is happy to know that home is with him no matter where he goes.

With his lack of attention, he bumps into someone and reaches out, instinctively to grab their arms and keep them from falling. “Oh- _shit,_ sorry.” Rhys lets out, and the stranger is glaring death into him—shit. Looks like he bumped into someone _not_ having a good day; go you, Rhys! Go you. “Uh,” Rhys begins, but the stranger’s stare silences him.

No- not a glare. A _stare._ The stranger is staring at him now, surprise taking over the anger briefly as he catches sight of Rhys, before the man – who is pretty handsome, even if his hair is curling impossibly and even if he has a soul patch – curses and storms off, muttering something about how ‘his breaks are never freakin’ breaks around here’.

Well, he dodged a bullet there, really. Shaking his head, Rhys pinches his nose as he realises he has yet to grab something to eat and puts his mobile away to keep himself from getting distracted.

He skipped breakfast, so he might as well get a big meal.

* * *

Rhys meets Yvette at lunch, and he learns that she’s in requisitions. The way he meets her is… a tad funny, he thinks. He’s buying lunch when she comes up, manages to trick him into buying more food from the cafeteria so that she can have free lunch essentially, and Rhys ends up arguing back and forth with her until he caves in and buys something for her too.

However, it’s only on the condition that Yvette sits with him too. His skin is starting to prickle while being here for some reason, and he can’t really figure out why. There’s a nice smile on her face once they actually get to talking, and Rhys finds himself smitten with her personality.

Yeah, he’s already making a friend here, and he’s pretty happy about that. The run-in with the strangely cute stranger is out of his mind soon enough, though his skin still feels _prickly._ It stops once he’s going back to work, his stomach full of barely mediocre food, but eh.

Work is work, and Hyperion is large.

* * *

The prickling on his skin begins again when he has to go back to his flat. He rubs at the skin of his neck, wondering if there’s maybe a _bug_ on him or something. He pats at his clothes, trying to figure out if he can somehow _feel_ the bug on him, but there’s nothing there. Rhys’s hair stands on edge, and he’s looking through the hallway of [one of] the residence floors.

“Ugh.” Rhys groans out, feeling ridiculously as he taps his key card onto his apartment lock, and he makes his way inside so that he can relax. Flopping onto the bed and grinning as he bounces ever so slightly, Rhys goes to check his messages and smiles at all the shit talking Vaughn has done so far.

Man, he misses being in Maliwan already, but… dream job and all. He tells the man about Yvette, because Vaughn’s gotta know he’s making a new bud, and Rhys still needs to set up his desktop and laptop _at some point_ so that he can properly talk to his buddy.

He ends up nearly falling asleep in his shoes, outdoor slacks and shirt, and Rhys groans and texts Vaughn a goodnight.

Whatever caused that prickling sensation, Rhys hopes it’s gone now, at least. Or that it won’t happen again tomorrow—because after getting naked and standing under the shower, he’s convinced it’s probably his anxiety acting up when he sees no bug just fall off.

* * *

It’s a busy day again, though Rhys has the fortune of a weekend coming up—though, on Sunday, he does have to go to the medical centre on Helios to be tested for his surgeries. For now, he just busies himself with working and dealing with Hugo Vasquez – a sleazebag.

He smells and acts like a douchebag, and Rhys doesn’t like him, and something tells Rhys that Vasquez doesn’t like him that much either. He has Yvette to look forward to in lunch, however, and he has to hold back the urge to smile.

Yvette’s awesome, from what Rhys can tell so far, and Rhys is quietly excited to talk to her again. Lunch comes by quickly, and Rhys is speedwalking over to the cafeteria because not only does he want to meet with Yvette but he… also skipped breakfast again, because Rhys realised far too late that the fridge is empty.

He bumps into the same stranger again.

“Shit- crap.” Rhys yelps out and the stranger is gritting his teeth in an attempt not to swear as his reports fly out from his hands. “Oh—oh shit. I’m so sorry- lemme help out with that.” Rhys flusters, immediately dropping down to grab at the papers, and the man above him is glaring holes into him.

“Yeah, _sure,_ just don’t tear any of ‘em up cupcake.” Cupcake? He looks up at the man from where he’s squatting and the stranger follows after him to pick up some of the reports too. “Damn it; if I’m even _a minute late_ because of this, Tassiter’s gonna _ream my ass out_ and _freakin’ hell._ Jack do this, Jack do that—I’m a _programmer_ not your god damn-“

“Um.” Rhys interrupts, and the man – Jack, he assumes – snaps his attention back to him—and… his stare is intense again. Rhys breathes in as his entire body freezes up, heart racing at the pure intensity of Jack’s [he thinks his name is Jack at least] stare. “I’m sorry?”

Jack sneers at him, looking _so horribly pissed off,_ and Rhys can’t help but try and glare back. It doesn’t seem to work, because Jack briefly looks amused and unimpressed at the same time. Somehow. It’s more like a conflict of emotions on his face as he wonders _how_ to react to Rhys. “You better be- this is the _second—_ what the hell is your name, anyway?”

“Rhys.” He answers without thinking, and he’s tempted to slap himself. He hastily stands up with the papers in his hands, and Jack eventually follows his lead. “I’m new-“

“Yeah, I didn’t _ask_ for that info pumpkin, but thanks for the little tidbit. Name’s Jack, and Rhysie, _stop running into me._ This is getting _annoying.”_ Before Rhys can even retort, Jack’s swiping the papers out of his hands and he shoves himself past him.

There’s something _angry_ in his body language, something that makes Rhys think that Tassiter _really_ likes torturing this guy, from what he gets, and he makes a mental note to not piss Tassiter off.

Or get his attention in general, really. Or even piss _Jack_ off. He makes another mental note to not run into Jack again. He seems like an asshole, and Rhys doesn’t want to deal with overworked assholes more than he has to deal with Vasquez right now.

But, hey, Yvette is waving him over and she’s looking at him with determination clear in her eyes, and Rhys is ready to argue with her again on whether or not he’s paying.

* * *

His anxiety must be getting really bad, because he’s getting very _fidgety_ as he works. There’s something on the back of his neck that’s bothering Rhys, running down his skin and under it as well, and it’s making his head hurt ever so slightly. He’s not entirely _sure_ what’s going on, or why he’s feeling so… uncomfortable, but he’s going to assume that it is just anxiety attacking at inopportune moments.

Though Rhys doesn’t really remember his first day at Maliwan, he remembers the awful anxiety that curled in his stomach at the time. Maybe it’s even worse here because Hyperion can either make or break him as a person, and he doesn’t want to risk messing up.

Yeah, that makes sense to him. He’s just stressed out, and Vasquez isn’t helping with him just—not even saying anything! He just looks at Rhys with a slimy smile, acting all high and mighty because he’s been here way longer, and just-

Ugh.

He really hates people.

* * *

So, his driver’s license is missing. Not that—not that Rhys is panicking over that. He doesn’t have a _car_ here, can’t afford to get one yet, and it’s not like he can just _get_ a car while he’s still living in Helios. The supermarket isn’t that far away either; he can walk there, no problem—

But Rhys’s driver’s license is missing, and he may or may not be panicking like. A shit ton over that. His ID is still with him, but that’s only because he actually has it in his wallet and his driver’s license – for whatever _dumb reason_ – wasn’t in his wallet when he—

Damn it. Did it fall out when he bumped into Jack? Maybe someone picked it up and took it to someone in Helios. He checks his email to see if he has been told to pick something up but—

Nope. No email. He doesn’t even know if this is how the company works—maybe he should go ask the secretary at ground floor when he has free times? It seems like that person works all weekend and weekday, unlike most the people here who work every day and finish up on weekends.

Yeah he’ll—tomorrow, when he’s awake and actually has food and drinks in the fridge, he’ll go and ask what he can do if something is lost and it clearly has his name and so on written on it.

Still! Not his ID or his passport [that he luckily actually keeps in a box in a closet in his flat], so that’s—that’s not that bad, right? Just a missing driver’s license.

He makes sure not to tell Vaughn he lost it, or else he won’t hear the end of it for days.

* * *

Someone’s ringing his door and Rhys stumbles awake. It’s – it’s three-fifty one in the morning, and Rhys is going to _kill_ whoever the hell just came and woke him up at _this_ god damn time of day. Stumbling around, Rhys unlocks the door of his flat and he’s ready to yell at the person there – everyone else be fucked if they wake up because of his yelling – only for his voice to catch in his throat.

There’s no one there. He leans out, looks around, and blinks when he sees something taped on the wall next to his door. He rips it off, closes the door as he heads back inside, and flips on the light to check what it is that he got off the wall.

It’s his driver’s license and a note that says _‘returning it’_ only. It’s not a handwritten note and Rhys grans and rolls his eyes. Whatever; if the person who found his driver’s license wants to be anonymous then fine, they can stay that way.

As he’s heading off to bed, license placed on one of the kitchen counters, Rhys briefly wonders how the person knew which flat Rhys lives in.

_‘They probably asked the secretary or something, and didn’t have free time until now. I mean; Yvette’s told me some people work until six and sleep for half an hour here.’_

Satisfied with his own explanation, Rhys lies down on bed and tries to ignore the way his chest tightens.

* * *

He spends most of his Saturday trying to stock his fridge up and to actually relax. It’s his first weekend here, even if the weekday this week was really short for him. It’s… a mess. Sure; Maliwan’s smaller than Hyperion, but not by that much.

Rhys is going to need time to get used to the schedule here, and he suppose that it’s not that bad all things considering. What happened last night occurs to him again and his chest feels tight again. He breathes in and out deeply, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pulling every time he tries to _breathe_ properly.

Someone returned his ID without giving it to the workers of Helios first. So maybe they wanted to return it themselves? Maybe they thought a driver’s license is very important and just… returned it? Sure, they may have said ‘returning it’ on a very tiny slip of paper and it wasn’t handwritten but—

Hey! Perhaps the person is embarrassed by their handwriting? Rhys knows that he definitely used to be. It’s not as bad now, but insecurities exist over the smallest of things.

… Why is he thinking about this? He has shit to do today and he has the doctor’s examination to worry about tomorrow. Stop. Being. So. Stupid. Rhys.

The moment he steps out of his apartment, the prickling sensation at his skin is back and his chest is still so damn tight. The moment he steps outside, the moment he’s actually buying stuff for himself that he needs, he knows he’s going to feel better.

Productivity is the greatest answer for an overactive imagination, his father used to say.

* * *

The examination comes and goes, and Rhys has to wait for a few more days before they can determine whether or not he can handle the ECHOeye and port surgery. Luckily, him getting a prosthetic means that they’re pretty much able to tell him right away if he can get his new arm [which, duh, he can] so he doesn’t have to worry about that one.

Monday comes by and begins with actual breakfast, and Rhys is more awake and aware enough for the day that comes. Vasquez is a snobby shithole, and Rhys _haaaates_ his fucking guts, but hey. Work is work, and Rhys is way too low on the ladder to try and even do anything to Vasquez.

It’ll just get him trouble with the higher-ups, and then he’ll have to explain himself and a petty grudge isn’t really a good enough explanation. So he reigns his temper in and works on reports, getting coffees and sometimes lattes because, yeah sure _why not,_ and it’s… fine.

Busy day, as Rhys is slowly starting to get used to, but a day nonetheless. He checks his phone during the moments where he has nothing to do, and wastes his time with Vaughn [who is also being as irresponsible as Rhys so he can’t say anything] before he goes back to staring at the monitor screen.

Speaking of; he finally set his laptop up at least, and he video called Vaughn for a bit so that he could be as animated as he always is with his buddy. He can’t really bump him around and punch him, or smooch his forehead, but at least he can be animated on webcam.

He neglects to mention his growing anxiety to Vaughn, because he doesn’t want his best bud to worry when things seem to be getting stressful on his end, and Rhys kind of regrets it right now. Even though he’s at his cubicle and supposed to be working, there’s a _sensation_ that he can’t identify just crawling over him.

Rhys _thinks_ it’s discomfort. Over what? He doesn’t really know; he hasn’t been working that long here, yet there’s something that wraps around him and makes him feel awfully uncomfortable. He hopes it goes away soon enough.

* * *

It doesn’t, really. A week later and Rhys is still uncomfortable for a reason he can’t understand. He doesn’t run into Jack during that week, and he considers himself lucky for it. Yvette’s sick for two days out of that week, though he has her number now so it’s fine.

She’s fun to text, mostly because he’ll have a normal conversation with her and then she’ll just say something _completely_ left field that makes Rhys laugh. It’s a nice way to distract himself from the scratching, uncomfortable feeling, but not all the time.

Yvette has her own things to do, too, and Rhys doesn’t want to bother her that much. Vaughn’s been pretty busy throughout the week, too, and Rhys doesn’t want  to irritate his bro either. He considers calling Fiona or Sasha, but he finds himself feeling too awkward to do so.

Even though he _loves_ them with all his heart, he always feels shy calling them or texting them. He’s not sure why, really; maybe it’s the way they hold themselves?

Whatever.

He’s being ridiculous. He has some projects he needs to finish up and he runs his hands through his hair, eyes staring up at the ceiling of his flat.

Rhys really needs to work right now. Productivity is the best cure for the overactive mind.

* * *

Despite him having a relatively Jack-free time, Rhys nearly runs into him again. This time, he manages to stop himself just in time and Jack’s skidding to a halt as well. There’s nothing in his hand other than an ECHOcomm, the ones made for work specifically, and he’s looking at Rhys with an arched eyebrow. He’s about to say something, when Rhys just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Either _shut up_ or have lunch with me.” He looks at Jack with wide-eyed horror at what he just said, and both the man’s eyebrows are shooting upwards in complete disbelief. He can explain his thought process, really! Yvette’s actually in a meeting right now about the state of requisitions and supplies and whatnot, and Rhys doesn’t know anyone else around.

Jack may seem like an asshole, but his mood seems to be… decent. Barely—barely decent, but decent-ish. “Wow.” Jack says, finally. “I did _not_ expect you to be a disrespecting little shit-“

“ _Hey,_ you’re the one with the attitude problem, not me—“

“But y’know what? I need to eat, damn it, and my work can wait. You’re lucky Tassiter doesn’t want me to do jack today.”

Rhys has to bite back his snicker at that and judging by Jack’s stare he probably fails it. He shrugs at Jack, and grins at the glare he gets. Now that he’s the one making Jack angry, it feels _very_ satisfying—especially when Jack was so _rude_ to him prior.

Eating lunch with Jack goes as well as he expects—at first. The man is grumbling about work and complaining when Rhys just silently lets him, picking at fries and just popping them in his mouth while he watches Jack. He talks with his entire _body;_ Jack’s animated in a way that Rhys can’t be, not when his entire body seems to move and talk for him.

In a way, it’s hypnotising. He watches the movements of his arms and hands, the way he straightens up or slouches, the way his shoulders rise or just slump completely, and Rhys wonders if this is what people when they say there are some who just _attract_ attention.

Jack definitely seems to attract it; he’s not necessarily loud, but he’s definitely… noticeable. When he’s gotten all that complaining out of his system, Jack turns to Rhys and _pesters_ him to talk. About what he’s doing here, exactly – “I wanna join robotics.” / “Hah! Good luck with that.” – and when he came here – “like, two weeks ago, dude?” / “Don’t take that tone with me, pumpkin.” – and if he met Tassiter yet.

He hasn’t, but Rhys can tell that the guy’s an asshole already. He’s heard his announcements from time to time; definitely not someone he wants to actually _meet._

“I can’t _wait_ for that guy to stop being CEO.” Rhys admits at some point during the conversation. “Hearing his voice makes me want to drag my nails down a chalkboard.” Jack stares at him for a bit, then. It’s that same intense look again, the look that makes Rhys want to shrink away, but he stares at him and breathes evenly.

After a bit of staring, Jack grunts and looks away. “You and me both, kitten.” The pet names are throwing Rhys _off_ so badly, but he can’t bring himself to ask Jack to stop. “I just— _aww sonnuvataint._ Whatever; thanks for the lunch and _oh so wonderful company_ kid, but I gotta get to work now.”

He doesn’t even let Rhys say goodbye before he’s practically booking it, in a hurry to get to wherever he needs to be, and he tilts his head to the side

What could Jack be doing that requires so much of his time? He knows programming is a stressful and busy job, especially when Hyperion seems to have such a huge interest in _everything,_ but he’s not sure what Jack is doing exactly.

Maybe some sort of long project for the company? He’s definitely going to drag him back for more conversations about this.

He scratches at the side of his neck when an itchiness starts to spread there, and Rhys looks away from… from whatever. He doesn’t know. But he feels like he’s staring at someone, doesn’t know who, and Rhys doesn’t like the way his stomach churns in discomfort. There’s a tight knot there, and his heart is clenching up tight and it misses a beat before Rhys decides that he should probably leave.

It’s ten minutes before lunch is over, but being in the cafeteria is too much for him right now and he just needs to _go._

Yeah, he’s definitely talking to Vaughn about this later, when he can.

* * *

“You sure it’s not just nerves or something?” Vaughn asks, his voice a tad distant as Rhys busies himself trying to make lunch for himself. “I mean, when you came to Maliwan for the first month or so you literally couldn’t talk to Jasmin without running off to puke.”

“Maybe!” He yells back, and he yelps as he burns his flesh hand. “But still, I mean—something’s—something’s weird about this to me? I don’t know! Maybe it’s just the whole newness and… _uggghh why does Hyperion have to be so huge?”_

“It’s been around for yeeeeears bro! Years!”

“I _know_ bro! I read up pretty much most of Hyperion’s history before I got here!”

“…”

“…”

“Did you act-“

“MY FOOD’S BURNING, BRO!”

* * *

He goes to Yvette next when they’re both free and have lunch, and she’s looking at him with a cool look and a gentle smile. “What’s up?” she asks, and Rhys has never been more happy to hear her voice than right now.

“You ever feel weird comin’ to Hyperion for the first time ever? All… itchy and stuff?”

She arches an eyebrow. “You gettin’ a rash? I mean, you wouldn’t be the first person to get a rash here. Some of the plantlife here can seriously cause allergic reactions.”

Rhys ponders over that for a bit before he shakes his head. “No, no, I haven’t gotten an allergic reaction. Trust me, really, _I’d know._ I just… feel itchy all the time.”

“Maybe you’re just nervous, Rhys? This is… what, technically your second week here?” He nods. “Give it time. People here are assholes, and I bet that Vasquez ain’t makin’ this any easier on you.”

“He’s… really not.”

“Then take it easy. You’ll be feeling fine in no time; especially once you’ve shown Assquez his place. Anythin’ else goin’ on, or can you buy me lunch now?”

He thinks over it a bit and presses his hands together. “I met with Jack.” Rhys begins, and Yvette looks at him blankly. Right—there are a lot of Jacks in the world. _Elaborate,_ Rhys. “Heterochromatic eyes, swoopy hair, tall, soul patch…”

Yvette looks at him seriously then, a frown on her face that looks _off_ on her normally calm visage. “Programmer?” he nods again. “Listen, Rhys, try not to talk to him that much, okay? That guy’s a _serious_ douchebag, and Tassiter’s always hounding him so he’s just… **insufferable.** ”

Rhys snorts at that and shakes his head. He crosses his arms on the table and leans close. “I’uhno man; Jack keeps staring at me. It’s… kinda weird. I mean; to be fair, I did run into him twice and nearly run into him _again—_ “

“How do you have the worst luck?”

“Part of the Rhys charm, baby.”

“Is part of that charm _maaaaybe_ buying me lunch?” she says smoothly, one eyebrow rising challengingly, and Rhys grins back and raises one eyebrow as well. It’s easy to slip back into being friends and, in a way, it reminds him of hanging out with Vaughn and being dumb together.

Though, Vaughn is clearly his bestest bro and his husband for life, even if he’s currently trying to ask Sasha out and – from what he gets – is clearly _rocking_ it.

So go Vaughn!

* * *

His mind drifts back to the driver’s license, sometimes, and Rhys does his best to use his old excuse on it every time his mind anxiously brings up a new, stupid possibility. He just _got here—_ there are people here who don’t sleep unless it’s the weekend and work hard every day.

There are _weirdos_ here. Like, absolute _weirdos._ The scientists from R&D came up to lunch and Rhys _remembers_ how _weird_ he looked. So really, some eccentric asshole may have been the one to find his driver’s license and, in his eccentric brain, decided that this is the best way to give it back.

Hell, the whole _shy_ thing could still be applicable here! So stop _thinking about it;_ stop over thinking it. Stop thinking about it.

_Stop it._

* * *

Work drifts by mindlessly, and the day for his cybernetic replacement edges closer with each passing hour. To say he’s excited is an understatement; he’s _ecstatic_ about it. It’s always been his dream, since he was a kid, to have a cool arm to replace the empty space there.

Now he’s one step closer to his dream.

Though, the excitement doesn’t erase the fact that his skin is practically _crawling_ now. It feels like there are thousands of cockroaches under his skin, and his heartbeat just seems to get _faster_ every day. Maybe he’s imagining things- it wouldn’t be the first time he did, to be fair.

He wants to talk to someone about this. He’s sure that there’s a therapist in this giant, behemoth of a building somewhere. Didn’t Helios offer that, alongside dental care? Which is… great. His teeth are perfect, but still—dental care and psychological care! He’s sure that they are both offered here.

Rhys _needs_ to get this off his chest, but something in him nags that he’s just being unreasonable. It’s _barely_ been a month now, and he’s already being so damn egocentric.

He cracks his fingers individually, listening to the satisfying sounds to ignore the fact that he’s _really_ not doing anything right now.

_‘Work, Rhys, work. If Vasquez sees that you’re not working, he’s gonna tell on you like a preschooler and get you into a shit ton of trouble.’_

* * *

At some point, Rhys has to stop scratching himself because it’s getting to the point where he nearly scratches skin off. He flinches and moves his hand away from the raw, red spot on his neck and the ache that blossoms there is definitely making Rhys regret so many things right now.

He’s gonna have his surgery soon to replace all the complicated wirings and have a new plate ‘installed’ [for lack of a better term] so that his cybernetic arm can attach easy. It’s probably gonna hurt like a bitch, but thankfully he’s gonna be unconscious for most of it.

The last few days before the day of the surgery are awful. Nothing happens, and that’s what makes it awful. Someone keeps staring at his arm, or so he thinks someone keeps staring at his arm. He doesn’t actually _know_ but now his prosthetic arm is starting to feel heavier by his side, his mind running one-hundred kilometres per second as he tries to figure out what’s happening.

Sometimes he isn’t being looked at—or it’s his mind just playing tricks on him due to self-consciousness, who knows? He certainly doesn’t—and Rhys can relax. Though his arm still hangs heavy at his side, and his self-esteem is awfully low.

It just plummets the very few days before he has to go to the medical floor, and Rhys thinks he really needs to go to a therapist or something.

This is bad. Like, insanely bad.

* * *

The nine days after the surgery is a bit of a blur. Because he has a new arm, he has to stay at home and try to have his body get used to the cybernetic. It’s a heavier weight on his side than his prosthetic, having way more utility and functionality, and his body will apparently freak out if he doesn’t stay at home and perform exercises to have it get used to it.

There’s also the whole thing where he has to take medication to take care of the pain that’s definitely going to linger, so Rhys can’t work for those nine days. Which is fine with him, actually. The medicine makes him unable to really think much, and his head is so muddled that the days go by very quickly. A small, medical bot is assigned to making sure Rhys is eating properly and taking his medicine, so he doesn’t have to worry about remembering.

The cute little bot that ‘beeps’ and ‘boops’ at the end of most sentences is there to help him out, and that honestly helps him feel _way better_ about this whole thing. His flat is safe, and he doesn’t have to worry about any uncomfortable itches, bugs crawling under his skin, or the weight of thousands of stares.

Or maybe it’s only one. If it is one it definitely feels like a thousand. His brain is too muddled for him to try and feel bad, and he just lets himself lie down on the bed and enjoy the fact that he has a few days of dizziness and rest.

When he doesn’t have to worry about meds and exercises anymore, he’s definitely going to show his arm off to Vaughn.

His bro is gonna be so stoked.

* * *

Yvette’s eyes are wide when she sees his new arm, and Rhys is all grins – if not dizziness – at that fact. He shows it off, shows off how it can essentially do what ECHOcomms do, and he’s busy marvelling over the fact that the articulation is _way better_ than his old prosthetic. If anything, it feels easier to use everything now, even if the arm looks clunky and packed due to it being a first model.

There are gonna be better models eventually, and Rhys can’t wait to get them once he has the money for them. Yvette’s the one that buys lunch for them this time, because apparently him getting a new arm is _that_ worthy of celebration, and Rhys gives her a high-five when she comes back with food.

“You are the _best_ you know that, right?” Rhys sings, and Yvette shakes her head and snickers. “Like, _seriously,_ Yvette, you’re _awesome._ Like, super cool.”

“Are you still takin’ meds, Rhys?”

“Lower doses but _yup!”_

She laughs. “Of course.”

Even though he feels like he’s being stared at again, Rhys thinks he actually gets it this time. He has a new arm—something big and noticeable, because it’s all black and red and… prominent, to say the least. So, really, this time he doesn’t feel _as_ bad as he normally does.

Though it’s still unsettling being stared at. Or maybe no one’s staring, and he’s just hoping they are. The second one makes more sense—after all.

Why should anyone care for a newbie?

* * *

Someone was in his flat.

Yeah that’s—that’s an irrational thought, but he _swears_ that his laptop was on his bed and not in the corner when he left this morning. He swears it was—but as he retraces his steps around the flat he sees that literally nothing else has changed. His kitchen is still stocked and all the forks, knives, and spoons are where they should be.

Nothing else in his bedroom has been moved. The living room is just fine. Maybe he really did put the laptop in the corner and he just couldn’t remember? He is still taking meds, after all. His memories could be a little bit fuzzy. Maybe he just—

Maybe he put it in the corner during his tired haze, thinking that it looks better there for whatever reason.

Exhaling, Rhys slumps his shoulders when that idea comes to mind. He really needs to rest right now.

* * *

It’s not safe here suddenly. The crawling sensation is back, even _worse_ now that he’s feeling it in his flat. He has to retreat to the bathroom to feel safe, because that’s the only place where the itching and scratching seems to go away.

He has to change in there from now on, and he doesn’t know why. He’s having—a panic attack because suddenly all feelings of _safety_ are gone, and his heart is beating quickly and skipping _beats_ every _what it feels like two seconds._

His throat feels tight and his heart is twisting up, and Rhys is shaking in the bathroom where he feels safe and the—

The urge to vomit is rising up, and his eyes are so _wide_ and staring at nothing _and it’s starting to hurt._ He’s breathing all _wrong_ and there’s saliva gathering at his open mouth, his hands grabbing at his elbows and _why does it feel unsafe in his flat? Why does it feel unsafe in his flat?_

 _Nothing is happening, no one is here, this doesn’t make sense._ Maybe Rhys should invest in some curtains or something? It’s not like it’s gonna matter, he thinks, because it doesn’t feel like he’s being watched by the _outside_ and that doesn’t make sense.

That doesn’t _make sense._ Why does it feel so damn unsafe in his apartment?

He curls up on the toilet seat, body heaving and his stomach gurgling with the urge to puke. He needs to talk to Vaughn _right now. **He needs to hear him right now.**_

Rhys fumbles with his phone, nearly dropping it a few times before he dials Vaughn’s number and tries not to sob.

* * *

He’s still uncomfortable in his flat, but it’s not as bad as the first time he realises that it feels like he’s out working again. Rhys still can’t bring himself to change in anywhere but the bathroom, and even then he has the sneaking suspicion that that area is going to stop being safe soon too.

But for now, he just focuses on the fact that he’s gonna have the more serious surgeries in a few months. They still need to schedule everything proper, and it’s going to be riskier so they’re just… giving him more time; to reconsider, probably, because he still did go through with the program by just getting the arm.

It’s better to focus on this than the discomfort that is curling in his stomach. It lessens considerably when he gets out of his flat and starts to head back to his cubicle, taking the elevator and the presence of people around him actually helps him _breathe._ There are a lot of strangers here; some doctors from R&D, some people from robotics, some from middle management…

Tons of people from different floors are here, and he’s able to breathe in and out, in and out until everything seems _better_ now.

Jack’s in the elevator too, looking awfully cramped that even Rhys can feel it, and he wonders why he didn’t notice him earlier. Jack’s staring at nothing, his brows furrowing, and Rhys pushes past everyone else when his floor arrives first.

The lowest of the low—that’s what Rhys is right now.

* * *

He doesn’t run into Yvette during lunch, but he does run into Jack—metaphorically, that is. To be more honest, Jack’s busy on his ECHOcomm trying to work some shit out, and Rhys decides that he’s going to keep him company because it looks sad that the man is sitting there, not having touched his food yet, and he’s nothing if not overly sympathetic.

“Guess who’s baaaack,” Rhys sings out as he drops into the seat in front of Jack with his own food, and the man is groaning and looking up at him with an irritated look. “Don’t gimme that look, Jack, y’know you missed my _Rhys charm.”_

“Suuuuure, pumpkin, I miiiissed ya.” Jack hisses out, though his voice sounds weird when he says that, and Rhys just supposes it’s Jack, hungry, trying to tease him and failing. He dismisses it; he doesn’t know jack [hehe] shit about Jack, so he tries not to make that many assumptions about him. “To _what_ do I owe the pleasure of your company, huh?”

“Well, you looked pretty pathetic sittin’ here alone-“

“ _Oi!”_ Jack calls out, indignant, and Rhys makes it a point to ignore him. He does flick his wrist at him, and Jack is glaring at him. Damn, it’s fun to tease Jack. But where is he?

“—so, I decided that Mr. Hotshot here deserves to have the company of someone that matters.” He flourishes a little as he says that, though Jack is just staring at him with an unamused look. “Okay, maybe I thought you looked sad and I couldn’t bear it, but hey, you have my undivided attention.”

There’s an odd look on Jack’s face at that, and Rhys doesn’t know what to make of it honestly. Before he can say anything else, Jack is talking again. “You got a new arm,” he notes, finally, and Rhys grins and keens. “You _actually_ volunteered for the cybernetics program?”

“Yep! Gonna get my ECHOeye in… four months, I believe, then the port in three months after that.” He can’t help but glow at the way Jack whistles at him. “ _Awesome,_ huh?”

“Deeefinitely, kiddo. I had no clue you had the balls for it.”

Rhys throws his hands up, a big grin on his face as he looks at Jack. “Well, it was my dream, Mister Hotshot, to be a cool roboman when I grow up and now I’m livin’ the dreeeeam.” Jack just looks at him with an unamused look, one eyebrow arched up and he tilts his head to the side. “They’re saving the worst for last, believe it or not.”

“The port?” Jack asks, and he rubs at his own neck. “Where’s your port gonna be, kiddo?” When Rhys taps the area around his eyebrow, Jack’s eyes widen and he lets out another whistle. “Hoooly shit, you are one ballsy sonnuvataint, you know that?” He laughs at Rhys then, leaning back against his seat with a big grin on his face. “Look at _you!_ You look like a god damn pansy, but you’re ballsier than half the people I know!”

Rhys’s bows furrow and he crosses his arms, his back straightened up and his expression hopefully affronted. “I should take _offence_ to that, but I feel like you have no clue that you can compliment people other than yourself, so I’ll just take it as the most messed up compliment ever.”

“I know how to compliment people, cupcake! You just haven’t done much to deserve it. Though,” Jack snaps his fingers, “you do have a _very_ nice face, Rhysie. You got your father’s face or—?”

“Mother.”

“Yeah, yeah. You got a very nice _face_ there, though I don’t know if there’s anything else nice about you. Your personality certainly ain’t.”

Letting out a faux insulted gasp, Rhys places his hands above his heart. “Mr. Hotshot, I’m hurt!” he shakes his head. “But thanks for the… compliment? I mean, you sounded weird saying it, dude.”

“Well,” Jack begins, defensive, “I ain’t in the habit of complimenting strangers who ram into me in the _not_ sexy way-“

“Eurgh, gross!”

“- so forgive me for trying _hard_ for you.”

Rhys rolls his eyes at him, before he looks down at the food before them. “As much as I actually had fun talking to you, we should eat before lunch is over.” Jack follows his gaze down and hums. “I, Mr. Know-It-All, have to go somewhere. So, see ya, and stop looking so damn sad all the time.”

Jack’s staring at him as he leaves, and Rhys feels an uncomfortable prickle under his fingernails and his skin, under his mouth and tongue, and a humming in his veins. He smiles politely at Jack, even when he’s doing his best to run the hell away from him.

Maybe he should’ve listened to Yvette; Jack’s far too intense for someone like Rhys.

* * *

A week passes by without anything actually happening. His entire body crawls with the discomfort still, but he’s getting used to it. Slowly, that is. Very slowly, but it’s happening. He can accept that he’s probably not going to be happy at home for a while, not until he finds some place nearby to live in, but Rhys can handle that.

He can handle that until then. He runs his hands through his hair, ungelled and wet after his shower, and he’s staring into the mirror to see if anything looks off about him.

No, thankfully; he looks like himself still. There’s still a glow on his face, brightness in his eyes, and Rhys smiles when he remembers what’s going to happen to one eye.

He’s going to have an ECHOeye.

Ever so quietly, he steps out of the bathroom once he’s done changing and—

Well.

Rhys doesn’t feel like someone is watching him anymore, and that doesn’t comfort him like it should.

He quietly makes his way through his flat, trying not to be too loud, but there’s nobody _here_ right? His door is closed and he didn’t hear it open or close.

Rhys has his key card still.

No one is here, or so he hopes no one is here. With very slow, deliberate steps, Rhys navigates through the small living room. He heads over to the smaller kitchen, and he can’t even yell as someone grabs him and presses something against his nose and mouth.

“Shhh, pumpkin.”

 

Maybe he should have listened to Yvette after all.

 

* * *

“You really do have a nice face, Rhysie.” He hears the soft coo as Jack presses close to him, wherever they are, and his hands are thick and tracing over him. “M’proud of ya for havin’ the guts to get the new arm too. Pretty damn hot, if you ask me.”

Jack leans forth and kisses the eye that Rhys instinctively closes, and he backs away to look into Rhys’s eyes. “But I can’t have you gettin’ an _ECHOeye_ pumpkin; I just wanted to watch you for a bit before I did this, because you’re so damn _pretty.”_

There’s a scar on his face that Rhys didn’t know Jack had. Digistructed face, maybe? He thinks he prefers that instead of the one white and one blue pair of eyes that Jack has. He looks over to the side, eyes falling onto the skinning knife that lies, innocuously, on the table, but Jack hums and makes Rhys look back at him.

“Don’t focus on that right now, pumpkin,” Jack says, soft and sweet, and he’s splaying his hands over Rhys’s chest. “Let’s focus on how much _fun_ you and I are gonna have together.”

His entire body feels so very _heavy._ His limbs refuse to co-operate, and he can’t even struggle against the ropes keeping him to the chair. His mind can’t seem to catch up with what’s happening, and Rhys’s mouth refuses to move.

Jack kisses his chin.

“You have such a pretty damn _face,_ cupcake. It’s a waste if someone didn’t appreciate it properly, don’t you think?”

Rhys can’t respond to him.

There’s a skinning knife on the table.


End file.
